Life, Damnation, Redemption?
by ValerieStone
Summary: If someone breaks, how can you put them back together? If someone has lost all hope, do you just give them a hug and tell them that it'll be ok? What about a dead person, who isn't so dead, at least not anymore. What then? Sequel to Silent Stiles but can be read alone, please read and I hope you enjoy!
1. Death or Hell? Or is this Life?

_Alright, here we go again! I have edited and rewrote this, and made it it's own piece. I hope you guys like it and please forgive me for taking so long to work on it, I hope its worth the wait. And please REVIEW! I love the favorites and alerts but the Reviews are what keeps me going! _

Betrayal: a sweet word, easy on the lips, languid, almost fluid in speech. From the word, multitudes of emotions come; they bubble and fester with the slightest push of a reminder. People respond differently when they are betrayed. Some rage against the world, expressing their raw agony by lashing out. Others whimper and wilt. And a special few shatter.

I have done all, I raged silently against the world; all the while constructing my own reality where no one could hurt me. Still, not even that had been enough to protect my fragile psyche and I broke. Personality gone, thoughts flitting, I watched through dull eyes as flowers withered and card lost their luster and eventually fell forlornly to their sides with the dried petals of flowers long past. I was forgotten, nurses passed by in soft pastels, their eyes never strayed toward my room, much less my prone form.

The few visitors had quickly dwindled, I never saw Derek, or any of the pack, not even Isaac, and that kinda hurt. I thought we had something, I mean, I was there helping him get over his claustrophobia and I was able to convince my dad, the sheriff, that he wasn't the one who killed his father. But, I guess because he's pack, he has to do what Derek says and Derek doesn't want to have anything to do with the broken human… Danny was the last to visit, he would sit awkwardly by my bed, sometimes he'd hold my hand, other times he'd attempt to learn sign language for me, hoping that I'd 'wake up' and correct him or make fun of how terrible he was at it. I think the silence was the thing that drove him away. If only I could escape it.

Eventually even my father stopped visiting, Ms. McCall was able to make his spend his nights at home, letting him stop by only briefly. She rarely looked at me, and when she did her eyes would be misted over, as if she wanted to take away my pain. Ironically it was the only thing the doctors were able to do for me, a good amount of the time I was in a blissed out state, my scars didn't hurt, my left leg was delightfully numb, if only they were able to do the same with my mind. To silence the inner me, but then, I don't think I'd survive if there wasn't some type of noise in my head.

When I do surface from my mind, I see the nurses pushing around carts and looking like content, pastel covered bees. The heart monitor was the only constant thing I found, it continuously proclaimed that I was still alive, with every steady blip on the screen. My heart was beating, lungs pushed air, all body parts intact, but I just didn't give a damn any more.

So, within the solitude of the room and the eventual lack of visitors, I was able to evaluate who I was and who I wanted to be. The more I reflected on my breaking point, I realized that it was the gram of wolves bane that killed the wolf. The first crack came from the death of mom, it cut deep and wept openly. A large chip came off with Scott, not only did he turn furry and try to kill me a good few times, but he eventually abandoned me for Allison. Then, seeing the love of my childhood life, Lydia die, or the equivalent of death, having been bitten so many times by an alpha, but dad was the last crack. He let Scott in, even though I had given him a vague reason into why we were no longer friends and why I didn't want to see him, and he still allowed him into my carefully constructed world. He broke his word in saying that I would be able to decide when I wanted to reenter the world, and with his broken word, he broke me.

In retrospect, I began to see how utterly pointless my attempts at being helpful had been. I had attempted to be upbeat, to be the researcher, the guy with the plan, and no one wanted that. Derek, Scott, even the Sheriff were only so willing to indulge me in my attempts to aid them for the 'greater good'. I began to hate them, I hated how they thought that they knew better than me, how even after all the hours of research I did before I opened my mouth I was discarded, as if I were nothing more than an out of season scarf. I hated them. But I hated myself more, I wore my heart openly on my sleeve, how I was the go-get-er and how I tried to be the upbeat person who was always ready to make someone smile. I was stupid. And that was the reason I was broken, physically, mentally, emotionally, I looked at the old me, I grabbed his image and I ripped it to shreds. Gorging on the fleeting innocence, imagining the sweet screams that would come from me, him, I killed myself. And I was no more.

_CPR, electrical charges, nothing worked. Stiles was proclaimed dead at 3:36pm, and his body was taken to the morgue. Nurse McCall had to be restrained, Sheriff Stilinski was devastated, and all of Beacon Hills heard mournful howls floating through the air that night. Causing the residents to close their curtains and turn the lights on. _

If you're one of those lucky few people who've never experienced pain, other than a skinned knee, then you wouldn't understand the agony that forced me back into the living. Or is it un-living? Everything hurt, my teeth hurt and I didn't know that that was possible. My limbs were leaden, molten lava flowed through my veins, heart pounded painfully in my temples. Eventually I was able to open my eyes to a paneled ceiling, one that could be mistaken for a school ceiling, but the smell was unmistakable. Death, the whole place reeked of cold metal, disinfectant and death. I moved my head to the side, and saw that I was on a table of some kind, really a table is glorifying the object, it was a metal slab. Oh god, a metal slab. I lifted my head up, neck cracked, eyes traveled down my very naked, very blue body to my big toe on my right foot. A tag. They only put tags on the dead people. I was dead. Am I still dead? Automatically my tongue went to my teeth, no sharp fangs, no sudden urge to lurch around wanting brains.

That was when I noticed the stitching, the Y, the dull ache of my ribs, I was dissected, like a frog, or a…rat or a … what else do people dissect now-a-days? I gingerly felt the stitches, at least I wasn't open when I woke up. Carefully I sat up, wincing as my left leg was jarred, and the stitches burned. I really hoped they used a clean needle. I know its mandatory for living people, but what about bodies? I hit myself in the forehead, forcing the thoughts from my mind. I had to get out of here, out of the morgue, out of Beacon Hills. I was already out of their lives, literally now, so who would miss a corpse?

The cold was starting to get to me, I glanced around the room, trying to ignore my slab neighbor, at least it was covered with a sheet. My eyes zeroed in on a lab coat conveniently located next to a door, finally something to cover myself with. Awkwardly I stood, hands clutching the slab, wincing as blood decided to rush towards my feet. One deep breath and I was wobbling towards the coat, painfully dragging my mangled leg behind me. A part of me, possibly the old Stiles, wondered what I must look like, more than likely like an over grown toddler wobbling towards a parental figure, or a drunkard who stripped and decided to move forward in the Adam and Eve ideologically.

Finally my hands clutched the white cloth; I leaned heavily against the wall and painfully put my arms through the arm…holes…what are they called anyway? Buttoning the coat, I let out another sigh, even though it was a thin cover, it was something.

I was alive, that was a start, I was breathing and I had to move. If I didn't then someone would find me, a morgue worker, could walk in at any moment and see the slab vacated, and me, the once-was-meat-on-the-slab, moving and breathing. Government research division, underground laboratory, all that jazz, more than likely would happen, or they would just shoot me…would a bullet kill me? Anyway, it was time to move.

Slowly I opened the door, praying to whoever was out there that it wouldn't creak, and I moved forward, dragging my mangled knee behind me. The hall was eerily lit, more than likely the lights were giving off the high pitched sounds of faulty electrical wiring, things that make a perfect scenario for a slasher movie. There are small favors in being deaf. Ignoring the cold tiles under my very naked toes, hand against the wall, I shuffled onwards. Pausing every so often, hoping to feel a vibration on the ground, or from the wall, anything to indicate that there was something coming. Nothing. I put too much stock into old western movies…damn it.

After a while I spotted an EXIT sign, I never knew how amazing those things looked. Once I stood outside, on the cold asphalt, naked under the lab coat, I sighed. I needed to make a list, a TO DO TO SURVIVE list, and yes, I know I capitalized the words, don't judge. I was guessing but I am pretty sure that I still needed the general things to live: food, water, clothing, shelter, warmth. But clothes first, if I didn't want to draw any attention to myself I needed to get dressed, in something normal, living people wear. No offense to those stuck up doctors and scientists who strut around in their lab coats all the time, even outside of the office, isn't that a no-no anyway? Good to know that the ADHD is still with me….

I broke into a goodwill, don't judge me. I was practically naked, broke and it was raining. I had been able to walk to the town over before the cold really set in and I decided to break in. Going commando is better than nothing. In a rather ragged backpack I was able to stuff five pairs of jeans, two pairs of shoes, I wore boots, six t-shirts, I wore three, and two hoodies, again I wore them. I also snatched two blankets and a sad looking pillow-pet, I only got the essentials. But then I realized that I would have to break into a convenience store to get food, I looked at the camera in the corner and winced. The police wouldn't believe the footage, and more than likely the hunters wouldn't either, I mean, who would believe that the dead sheriff's kid from a town over broke into a goodwill and stole clothes? Hopefully no one. I mean, I didn't believe it, and yet I'm the undead sheriff kid.

_More to follow….please review! Hope you liked it! _


	2. The Road to Damnation

_Ok! I am back, I'm pretty sure this is the fastest I have ever added a chapter...thank class cancellations for that! But don't get used to it. Once again, if I owned this I would live in a city, and not a farm, also - REVIEW! _

It was all over the news, the sheriff's son has gone missing, scandalous, don't you think? From being the uppity boy everyone loved to hate, to being the tragic story of how a car crash can destroy even the most optimistic of personalities, to death, and now this! His body, missing from the morgue, no footage of a body snatcher, just a missing body and a lab coat! Then footage of the same dead and missing kid breaking into and stealing clothing from a Goodwill, is it all a big hoax? Or someone's twisted sense of humor?

I snorted when I read the old newspaper, and I do mean old, this story was printed about a month ago, or so says the date of the edition. A dark part of me was amused by the news, I wondered what they would have thought if more bodies started to disappear then reappear breaking into places. The world would more than likely be in chaos, well, more than it is now. But that's beyond the point. Back to reality.

I'm not too sure where I ended up, I think I'm in the Virginia mountains somewhere, near coal mining towns and hillbillies, if the smell of wood smoke and gun powder have any correlation. It's been a few months now since I was reborn, brought back, damned, or whatever or however you might want to look at it. But I'm not bitter, nope, not one bit. Traveling from Beacon Hills to here, was an interesting endeavor, and this has been the first time I've had time to sit and contemplate.

Week One

It was slow going, I originally pitied the Amish for having to travel horse and buggy to get place to place, but going by foot was even slower, and it took even longer. You would think with being brought back from the dead I would have some type of power, or ability, maybe to make me faster, or impervious to sun burn…something…anything. Nope, of course not, mother nature and any and all the gods do too apparently. I got sunburned, bad, so bad in fact I probably looked like a burn victim…well more of one. The scars on the side of my face throbbed, and I was forced to wear a hood at all times, no matter the temperature while I walked, to make sure that I wasn't given any more notice than necessary. But, being a kid, with a limp, walking down a highway is always bound to get attention. Some good, and some not to good.

The first people who asked if I wanted a ride thought I was a runaway, you could tell by how they acted. It was an elderly couple, they looked like the typical grandparents who would travel to Florida in the winter and in the summer visit their grandbabies up north, bringing candy and presents galore. At first they followed my slow moving form in their red, beat up Oldsmobile, before finally getting the nerve up to drive beside me. The man was the one to talk, thankfully he didn't have a beard nor a mustache so I was able to read his lips.

"You ok kid, do you need a ride anywhere?"

I shook my head and started to veer father into the grass, hoping to make it look like I was about to take a turn to my house, granted there hadn't been a house for miles and from the looks of it there weren't going to be any for a while yet. Stupid farm country. The old couple persisted, until I turned fully towards them and lowered my hood. The old lady's face paled and her weathered, thickly veined hand covered her lips, while the man just looked at me, sympathy showing.

'_I don't need any help' _I signed, hoping to enhance my 'outcast' persona.

Sadly it worked, but strangely enough the old man saluted me before driving away, as if he respected what I had gone through…maybe he thought I was a veteran returning from the war and needed time to myself, if he only knew where these scars came from. There is nothing heroic about them. Thankfully for the rest of that week I had been left in peace. But of course nothing is simple and the next time someone came upon me, it just had to be a cop.

Blue lights broke through the early dawn, and they broke me from my trance like state. I don't know how long I had been walking, but it turns out in my new state of 'being' I didn't require as much sleep as the Old Stiles did. I think I let out a groan of annoyance, and I turned to face the cop car. Dragging my hands out of my hoodie's pocket slowly and showing that I had nothing on me. The cop slowly, cautiously exited the car. And I didn't begrudge him for it. I mean, if you saw a kid, dressed in dark colors with a ratty backpack and a pillow pet under their arm, walking down an old road at the break of dawn, wouldn't you be paranoid? I removed my backpack and slowly moved forward, dad's voice popped into my head, it was of him regaling a younger me of what to do if I was ever in this situation, though I had better not be. Oh how the times have changed.

Sadly, the cop didn't understand sign language and he saw my hand movements as a threat, idiot. Because the next thing I know, my bad knee is folded under me, pillow pet, Ralph, is lost and I'm being shocked with who knows how many volts of electricity? I know I was screaming, because my throat hurt. My body seized multiple times, and to the point where the cop called for an ambulance. I must have blacked out, because the next thing I knew paramedics were around me, shining bright lights into my eyes and making me even more disorientated. I had enough strength to push the lights from my eyes and squint up at them, then pointed to my ears and shook my head, regretting the motion immediately but they got the picture.

At least I think they did, I blacked out when they touched my left knee. I really need to get a sign on it that says 'no touch'. An IV was hooked up, oxygen was forced into my nose, and a sedative. Because I'm pretty sure I ended up kicking the cop where it hurts before they had me on the gurney.

When I came to, I really hate waking up in strange places, I saw a few police officers hovering by the door. My head slowly, loosely rolled on my neck, eyes meandered through the room, taking in the stats on the monitors, the sludge being dripped into my veins and my backpack, or at least the strap of it, peeking out from a door. The doctor came in, and wrote something on his tablet, or maybe it was an iPad, I honestly don't know because I don't remember reading it. Whatever they had in the IV was good stuff because I was out before I could sign a single word, or even give them the one finger salute.

When the medication wore off, I knew better than to show my awareness. Very carefully I peeked through my lashes and saw that the officers were gone, and one of the IV bags was gone as well. Thank the gods for small mercies. But that was when I noticed the soft restraints holding me to the bed, I'm pretty sure the deity watching out for me was the Trickster god or some other asshole. I kept my breathing steady and attempted to think of a way out, I mean, if werewolves and the stupid Kanima can bypass police and the hunters can get away with toting around a near arsenal of weapons that I highly doubt are from a mom and pop gun dealer, then I should be able to get out of these restraints. I mean, I already survived death….I can't let soft restraints hold me back. A slightly perverted image of me being held down by a certain wolf had his way with me flittered through my thoughts, damn teenage hormones. I made sure my heartbeat was slow, and my movements, hopefully, made as little sound as possible, for then I bit my lower lip and dislocated a few fingers by forcing them towards my palm, who knew fingers could cause so much pain?

Slowly I was able to release my hand, but I had to hold my breath for a moment, the pain was slowly starting to raise my breathing rate and I knew that my heart rate would rise and then all the annoying people would come and I didn't want another loopy shot. I needed to get out, before they realized that I was the dead kid from a few months ago…I wonder if a dead person can have a record after their death….

Fighting the pain, I was able to dislocate my restrained hand and I forced myself to finish the deed. Carefully putting the now swollen fingers back into place was easy, with each pop I felt relief, but now I had to do the hardest thing. I had to get out of this room, out of the hospital without being noticed and without being caught, and preferably getting out of town, far, far away before they realized who I was, am…whatever.

First the IV, ugh, I hate needles, it just gives me a heebie-jeebie feeling seeing them sticking into my skin, or anyone's skin, if I were to be honest, there is nothing natural about it. Once that was done, I looked at the heart monitor and sighed, this is where its going to be the near impossible part of my mission, maybe if all of this works out I can be the next Tom Cruise and continue his legacy in the Impossible Movies….right, back on track. I tested the length of the wires, and was happy to see that the wires were actually a lot longer than originally thought. Deep breath, I slid from the bed, thankful that they didn't think to put restraints on my legs, and used my good foot to slip the door open so I could extract my bag. Chucking off the gown, I was happy to see that I wasn't nude under this sheet, it I was in scratchy boxers, but hey, I actually missed the feeling of boxers hiding my man bits. Now I was able to get my clothing from the bag, I slid on the now too big jeans easily, then shoes. I grabbed my only button up and slipped it over my shoulders and buttoned it up as far as it could go with the wires. Shoes tied, jeans up, backpack, jackets, Ralph, and hospital socks. I was ready to go.

Painfully, quickly, I ripped off the heart sensors and slid out of the room just as the alarm started to wail, or at least I think it did, from the startled looks the nurses had. I made sure the worst of my burn scars were covered up and I moved onwards. Head high, backpack slung causally over my shoulder, Ralph peeking from the side pocket. I remembered to walk like Scott, how he looked and acted after visiting his mom at work. And I made sure to hide my limp.

Heart slamming against my ribs, I was able to make it to the lift before security was alerted. There are small mercies for the 'close door' button on an elevator. I was able to close it just a millisecond before a security guard's arm was able to stop me. You'd think they would find skinny, fit, or at least less doughnut eating guards for a hospital, I mean really. Even with my limp I would have been able to out run him, his arms barely made it past his girth. I exited two floors before the ground floor, then hit every button on the elevator, hopefully those who were watching are dumb enough to think I went to the ground floor.

Again small mercies, I was able to make it to the stairs, and down without a hassle, but that is where the mercy ended. A fit, good looking police officer was guarding the exit to the stairs, and he had his hand on the trigger of his taser, what is with these people and tazing others? Sheesh. I knew he would be on the lookout for me, more than likely they all knew what I looked like and my causal attitude and good looks wouldn't get me as far as the door, much less to the town over. So, I decided that a distraction would be best. Hiding behind the stairs, in that weird little no-space nook, I rifled through my bag. Grabbing the most kid-like items I could find. A mickey mouse hat, ears included, Ralph, a medical bracelet that had the symbol for autism, I was most definitely going to hell for this, but they would have to catch me first.

Putting on the most childlike expression I could muster, one arm holding Ralph closely to my chest, the other nervously ticking, I walked out, straight out – right in the line of sight of the police officer. He was surprised to say the least. Not fifteen feet from where I emerged a large burly hand was clenched around my shoulder. Show time.

I screamed, I let loose the loudest howl my vocal cords had ever done. I had everyone's attention, and I mean everyone. Patients, Doctors, Nurses, Orderlies, even the food cart lady turned. I struggled against the police officer's hold and continued to wail. Letting tears fall. The tears were from the pain of being on my bum leg, but no one had to know that.

Women were the first to act, their motherly instincts kicking in. The officer let go, I sunk to my knees, held Ralph closely, making sure the bracelet was showing, and continued to wail like I was being butchered.

The commotion brought a massive crowd. I mean, I think two floors of the hospital staff and patients alike and their third cousins were there. A soft hand caressed my tear stained cheek, I opened my eyes and saw a young orderly looking kindly at me, her green gray eyes saw the bracelet and she put a reassuring hand on my head before confronting the now red faced officer. Yep, I was on the fast track to hell.

Carefully, keeping up my scared-hurt-confused act, I scooted to a corner, near a sign labeled EXIT to Parking lot. I pressed against the door, hand carefully reaching for the weird door bar, handle, and with one look back, I was on my feet and out of there. I think I broke the Olympic sprinting record, I wouldn't be surprised if I brought up dust. But of course that was only the beginning of a long trip….

_Please REVIEW! I love you ALL! _


	3. The road to Hell is paved with

_Due to popular demand, I am adding a chapter on the Pack and how they are reacting to all of this. It starts from the very beginning, from Silent Stiles and goes forward, if you haven't read it, please do, or else I fear you will be as confused as me! __ Enjoy! And...REVIEW! lots of love, and freefall-gypsy, hope you like this! _

___

It all started with the human almost losing his life, again, by jumping in front of an arrow. Granted it had been dipped in Wolves Bane and more than likely, if its flight had been true, it would have killed Boyd, he should have known better. That is what had been rolling around in the Alpha's head for the past two days. The human. Everywhere he turned he could smell him, he had integrated himself so deeply into the pack, but he wasn't one of them, he couldn't be. Derek couldn't handle it if the human ended up dying or being hurt beyond a bite to repair the damage. So, with a heavy heart but a clear mind he called a pack meeting, minus the human.

"This has gone far enough, the fights, the turf wars, dealing with the Argents and now this. We are the superior beings, we should be the ones winning and not licking our wounds while tending to our pack mate, our Human pack mate. We must end this." Derek spoke with conviction, eyeing his betas and Scott.

Isaac was the first to disagree, "We can't do that to him! He has saved our skins more times than we can count, and without his willingness to research and his constant pestering Deaton probably would have packed up and left us by now. We need him."

"He saved my life, again." Was all Boyd said, his eyes downcast, guilt slowly came off him in gentle waves.

Scott put his hand on Boyd's arm reassuringly, "Derek, we can't do this to him. Please, reconsider." He pleaded to the Alpha.

For a moment Derek wanted to agree, he wanted to go back on his silent promise and let Stiles, the hyperactive human who made things work within the pack continue to be part of their world. But with a flare of his nostrils he realized that it couldn't be so. There was the faint scent of his, of Stiles's , blood on the counter top, where they had pulled out the arrow, where he had fainted at the sight of it, and smashed his nose against the corner of the counter, causing another part of his body to bleed. No, he couldn't put Stiles in danger anymore, he was human, he was weak, vulnerable, and if any other hunters got wind of the Hale Pack having a human, he would be targeted until he was either turned or rolled into a shallow grave. This was for the best.

"Scott," Derek growled, his eyes bleeding red, "You need to explain the situation to him, tell him that it is for his own good. Do what you have to, but make it clear that he is not allowed back."

Scott's eyes grew to enormous size, his mouth hung open a little, his fists clenched at his sides. "I CANT do that! He's like a brother to me!" Scott yelled, standing defiantly against his leader.

"You must, unless you want to be the reason the Sheriff lives at home, mourning the loss of not only his wife but his son. " Derek countered, knowing that it was a low blow but his point was made.

"Derek," Isaac whispered, "Are you sure this is the only way to keep him safe?"

"Yes."

And so it was the pack law. No one was to go near Stiles, even when they learned of his car accident and how gravely ill he was, the Alpha's command held their actions, and they could only hope he would recover.

_A month later…._

Stiles was free! He was released from the hospital, his diagnosis was good, he was on the road to recovery! At least that is what Isaac yelled happily as he sprinted into the Hale apartment. Derek looked up from his newspaper, allowing a small sigh of relief escape him. He followed his own command and steered clear of the injured boy, knowing that if he what had become of Stiles, his human, then he wouldn't be able to help himself, and he would give the boy the bite, be it willingly or not. No pack was allowed to see him, no contact, to keep him safe.

_Three weeks…._

There was a chill across his senses, a tug of something cold and thin, someone had disobeyed him, and considering the fact that Isaac and Boyd were curled on opposite ends of the couch doing homework, that left only Scott. Derek stood with a growl, fighting the inner wolf, going against a direct order from the Alpha was punishable by death or abandonment. But he did not have that luxury, he needed all the pack members he could find, at least that is what the small, rational part of his brain was telling him. He snatched his jacket from its place on the top of the chair, and did a quick check to make sure that he had his wallet and keys, before departing in an angered huff.

"Stay put," He yelled from the lift.

He left Boyd and Isaac, they looked at one another then shrugged, they knew better than to get on his bad side. It was just easier to be obedient, at least for now.

Derek stomped his way to his car and threw the door open before folding himself inside. He knew he needed to calm down, he had to think rationally. Deep breaths, eyes closed, jaw set firmly, the leather of the seat allowed him to minutely relax. Keys into ignition, engine roared to life, his eyes snapped open, car was put into drive and he roared out of the lot, racing towards his disobedient beta, and towards Stiles.

The trip only took five minutes, but it felt like forever, when he finally made it to Stiles's house, there was a rather guilty, emotionally wrung beta waiting for him on the front steps. Scott refused to look Derek in the eye and let loose a sigh, he reeked of guilt and emotional turmoil.

"Hey Derek," he whispered as he shuffled over. Backpack slung over his left shoulder, eyes downcast. A slight smell of copper wafted towards Derek's sensitive nose but he ignored it in favor of the confrontation.

"You disobeyed a direct command," Derek growled, looking at the beta, but his glare was softening slightly.

"Derek," Scott whispered, he had yet to look up, his body screamed submission while his scent screamed…something else.

"What did you do?" Derek asked, stepping out of his car, and crossing his arms. Eye brow raised questioningly.

"I – I just wanted to see him. Derek, you have to understand, he's like a brother to me, and having to explain to his dad why we aren't friends any more, without outing the pack, and explaining why I cant see him or visit him in the hospital was tearing me up inside." Scott explained, whispering, "But, I think I only hurt him more by coming over. But his dad told me I needed to, if I had any love for him, I had to visit, so I did…" He trailed off, his shoulders shook with suppressed tears.

"You made it….worse?" Derek asked, eyeing Stiles' bedroom window.

"He seemed ok, I mean, he was skinny and his hair was longer than it's ever been, and he reeked of medicated pain management and he favored his leg... but he seemed ok. I tried talking to him but it didn't work, he refused to look at me, and then he sent a message to someone, but when he got a reply…..he seemed….broken. I tried to follow him to his bedroom but he slammed his crutch against my head, then lurched up the stairs, and slammed the door closed and there was so much mountain ash I could only slam against the door twice before I started to get sick…"

That explained the copper smell. "Mountain ash; why would he have mountain ash?" Derek murmured to himself. But he shook his head, knowing that it was no use in asking his beta. "Wait, why would he have to look at you for him to listen to you?"

Scott looked up, he moved so quickly his neck cracked. "You mean you don't know?" His eyes grew impossibly large, looking innocent with the smudged blood stain across his forehead and cheek.

"Know what?" Derek grouched, tightening his hold onto his wolf, knowing that if he reacted violently his beta would clam up.

"Stiles lost his hearing when the engine of his jeep exploded…he's deaf.."

Derek felt as if the world was crumbling down from under him, his Stiles, his chatterbox, the kid who wouldn't stop talking and didn't listen to a single thing that was said, was unable to hear anything… ever again. A cold sweat appeared on Derek's brow, the small of his back started to prickle, this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Derek?" Scott nearly whimpered, having shuffled slower to his Alpha after explaining the situation to him, hoping for some type of reassurance. Automatically Derek put one arm around his beta, allowing Scott to melt into his warmth, what little he had to give. He let his eyes travel upwards, to the slightly cloudy sky, and wondered, did he do the right thing, pushing Stiles away, to break a member of his pack, making him an omega, was it for the better? Or was the worst to come?

_A day later…._

Stiles was catatonic, from is promising recovery to his sudden fall from health, it was all over the news. Some papers were empathetic towards the distraught sheriff, explaining to the reader how he was hopeful of the recovery, only to come home and find his son gone, the shell of what he once was.

_Eventually…._

Eventually the papers forgot Stiles, and the Sheriff and it seemed as if everyone forgot about the hyperactive teen who used to warm the benches for the lacrosse team, and cheer them on with more enthusiasm and gusto than the cheer leaders. Classes went on without the distractions, the team continued to win, people grew accustomed to seeing Scott with Isaac and Boyd, no longer a dynamic duo but a trio, even the nurses stopped whispering about the poor boy, and went on with their lives. Only the Alpha seemed to be holding on to some semblance of hope, that somehow, someway the bubbly teen would wake up and be himself again. Instead, the worst thing happened, he died.

The news reporters were all over the case, as if they were starved and the Sheriff's loss was the only source of protein they have had in weeks. But, when all was written and sent off to their editors for the early morning edition, they hid themselves into their hotel rooms and burrowed deep into their beds. Forcing pillows over their heads and turning the local comedy channel as loud as it could go, they did anything to drown out the noise; the noise of a howling wolf pack, screaming their agony to the full moon.

As the newspapers were dropped off onto doorsteps, and people slowly emerged from their beds, weary of what they heard last night, they were going to learn that they hadn't heard the worst, for when they turned on the news, multiple channels were all covering one thing. The local hospital, and the headlines read one thing: SHERIFF'S CHILD, DEAD, GONE, NOW MISSING!? Many coffee cups were dropped, toast ignored and burned, and glasses overflowed from juice. What was happening in Beacon Hills?


	4. Blood Drunk Hippieswait, what?

_Alright lovelies, here we go again! This one is my shortest but it's a teaser as to what's to come. Hope you enjoy, and I really hope you REVIEW! It keeps me going and helps me from getting distracted, because like our dear, beloved Stiles, I too am easily distracted! And I will probably switch between Stiles and the Pack, but I'm going to stay more with Stiles than anything. But Enjoy!_

I was able to make if out of that town with very little hassle after that, thankfully. And I now had a pair of boxers and socks; the boxers I would save to use for spare cloth, the socks were a welcomed relief to my toes. But of course, nothing ever comes easy.

Week Two

Escaping the hospital was easy, stumbling upon a hippie retreat and trying to well…retreat from them was another thing entirely; I think I'd rather be tazed again…

I was tired, I mean, bone tired and was walking through a lightly wooded area while the sun slowly set. Ralph had his head free from the confines of my backpack, watching my back, while I trudged onwards. The old stiles would have been mumbling to himself by now, or singing, or something, even hearing your own voice is better than hearing nothing. And what is the point in talking to yourself when you can't hear what you just asked yourself? Anyway, I was slowly making my way through the woods; I mean slowly, I saw a snail pass me a ways back. Or was it a slug, which ones have the shells? Sorry, no Adderall for a long time plus very little food makes Stiles a very odd person, undead thing…I think I look too good to be a zombie…at least I hope I do.

My train of thought was suddenly derailed when I slammed into a very hard, foul smelling thing, which turned out to be a rather handsome guy. If you were into dreadlocks, mousey brown eyes, a chiseled jaw, and could ignore the rather foul smell of BO and something illegal. The guy in question looked as surprised as me, when I bumped into him, but he was very quick to catch me before I fell onto my rump.

'Sorry,' I signed, hoping he would be able to understand sign language. If only it were a requirement in high school instead of Spanish.

He looked at me for a moment then pointed to his throat questioningly. I shook my head and pointed to my ears. His plump lips pursed and he looked at me, it was as if he was stripping me bare. His liquid brown eyes were seeing me and not the faded scars on my face, or the odd way I was standing, favoring my left leg to where I was nearly overbalancing.

'Bummer, hope those scars gave you some epic sights, scars being stories and magnets for the girls and all that,' he signed.

I did fall over then, who would have guessed that a smelly, hot, sexy, did I mention smelly hippie know sign language, there are only a few people in the cities who know it, but maybe my luck is turning if someone in the middle of nowhere knows it….yeah right, it's a nice thought though.

'You ok' he asked, leaning down and peering through his long dreadlocks, cock his head to the side, oh god he was hot.

'Fine', if a little bit mortified by my actions, but hey, no biggie…

'What are you doing around here? You're not a native,' he asked, crouching down.

'Passing through,' I signed, slowly trying to get to my feet.

'Itchy feet,'

'Something like that'

He said while he stood in one fluid motion, it was almost as if one second he was crouched the other he was standing, offering me a hand.

'What did you just say?'

I grabbed it, and with one swift pull I face planted into his rather hard chest, any hormonal urges were killed by the stench, oh my lord, has he never heard of deodorant? I jerked backward and forced a smile onto my face.

'You gotta come and chill with us for a little while.' He said, nodding his head to emphasize the point.

I was unable to say anything in my defense, he captured my right hand and started to drag me through sparse trees and over a painfully large downed tree. I think I sneezed ten to twelve times, my eyes watered, my nose itched, great, allergies. The guy seemed to be laughing at me, if his shaking shoulders and large smile had anything to go by. But I tried to ignore it and focus on what was actually important, which was watching my steps and being aware, because who knew, maybe this hippie wasn't the happy go, everyone is your friend type, maybe he ranked up there with the murderous nuns on a tv show I used to watch with Scott every Halloween.

Scott, the name, the image, him, it hurt. Tears threatened to burn their way down my face, I fought the urge to vomit, Scott was dead to me, because I was dead to him, literally now. So why should it matter, where I was or where he was or anything….damn-it this rag weed, pollen, stuff, making my eyes water.

About four minutes into our trek, the guy finally let go of my arm, he was practically vibrating with happiness.

'What', I couldn't help but ask, wishing that I had the forethought to grab a weapon, a stick, something.

'Welcome, to freedom.' He signed back, his grin was huge, teeth slightly stained yellow, with black spots. Ew. He flung his arms wide and let loose, what I would guess is a whistle or a howl, because suddenly there were a lot of people, I mean, twenty, or two dozen or maybe even more, surrounding me. Ah crap.

_Told you it was short, but hey, its going to come, give it time. And I must say adieu for class is about to being and I'm being a bad student and uploading my story. Review and lots of love! _


	5. I dub thee Dead

_I think this is the fastest I have ever been at uploading new chapters! I hope you guys like it and I hope you like it enough to review *coughcoughhinthint. Enjoy! _

The people around me were gorgeous, I mean, drop dead, model worthy. Even with their dread locks and strange look about them, I mean strange as in they seemed almost feral. The way they moved with fluidity, was just something that you don't find in full blooded humans now-a-days, I mean, even Derek had trouble being as fluid as these people. My back was to the closest tree instantly, eyeing the people warily.

"I want to introduce to you a traveler, he was just walking along and seemed lost in his thoughts," the guy said and signed.

Motioning towards me to walk forward, I shook my head and planted my feet firmly into the ground; call me paranoid but something about these people didn't seem right. For being so many, some dressed in everyday clothes, others barely dressed, some in what looked like animal skins and some were in their birthday suits, and they were certainly not born today. There was no way, I was going to move from my nice little place against the tree, survival one-oh-one, have your back covered.

"He's a little shy," The guy signed.

Sure, let's go with that. I'm shy, I'm the shyest person you've ever met, until you touch me, cause I will bite you. I've learned from the best after all.

The guy motioned towards someone from the back of the group, please don't be a big naked guy, please don't be a hot, sexy, naked guy. Let him at least be ugly! The person who emerged from the group was not naked, but close to it, but she as definitely not a guy. Unless in the wild guys can grow such impressive breasts.

I really hoped that they weren't sun walking blood suckers, because wow, she was a sight to behold, and she really rocked the whole- hippie-unwashed look. Her ice blue eyes seemed to take everything of mine in, from my worn trainers to my frayed jean bottoms and upwards. It was as if she knew I was going commando, and I know my zipper was zipped, because I did a double check. Don't judge. She came towards me, and for a moment I thought she was amazing, then I found that I was down wind. Oh, my gawd. She reeked, it was as if she bathed in onions, or got her lack of bathing from Shrek, or maybe she taught him a thing or two on how to repel people. And when she lifted her arm, a jungle of hair peeked out, well, peeked is a nice thing to say, escaped like a can of worms escaping a fisherman or a hungry bird was more like it. Does she not know what a razor was? Or what about deodorant? Is it possible to die from excessive inhalation of terrible body odor? If it's a thing, then I was so screwed.

"Hey there," She spoke slowly, allowing me to read her lips.

I just nodded slowly, eyes wide, more than likely looking like a deer before a predator, but there was no way I was going to blink and let her come any closer. I've watched Dr. Who, I know all about how fast things can move when you blink. She seemed to take my un-blinking as an invitation to move closer, I waved my hands and make shooing motions. It couldn't hurt to try. But, she ignored me, giving me a 'oh you're so silly' look while advancing. I held my breath and hoped the wind would change direction. Her hand placed itself next to my head; she leaned forward, and sniffed me. I mean, not even in a dog or wolf or Derek way, she just did this weird head turn and inhaled. I had to force my eyes on her and not on the pit hair. Her eyes flickered open with surprise, her plush mouth made a little 'o' before her demeanor completely changed. She tensed, her arm retreated to her side, yay no more pit hair, and she put her feet at shoulder length apart, a ready stance.

"You smell of the supernatural," She said, or snarled, if her teeth were anything to go by.

Now I was scared, I clenched my fists and stood my ground, knowing that if I did anything rashly then I would be dead, but if I didn't do anything at all I would also be dead. But terror quickly set in when she barked something to the smaller group of people behind her, apparently a lot of them had dispersed upon my arrival, I just wasn't that interesting I guess. Have you ever been terrified? If you've never been terrified then you don't understand how adrenaline can pump into your system and all your previous pains just disappear, and you're suddenly filled with a strength that isn't natural.

I reacted like any person would; I lashed out and clocked her right on the jaw. Down she went. I don't know if she smelled me as a supernatural baddie or the pack, or maybe the tree behind me had a spirit in it, but I was not going to stand around and wait for something to happen. With her down, clutching her jaw, I grabbed the closest dead, thick branch I could get my hands on and waited for more. I couldn't out run them, they weren't over weight security guys, and I didn't have anything to use as a distraction, so I had to go with brute strength, God help me.

The guy from before was back, standing over his downed friend, hands held up in a show of surrender. Or rather they were up until the girl behind him said something, and all his hippie-happy-go-look vanished, leaving only a predatory gleam in his eyes.

I tightened the hold on my branch, I would name it either branchy or Babe Ruth at a later date, if I got out alive and depending on how well I hit my targets. And then it was on like Donkey Kong.

A blur, is the best way to describe what transpired next. There were three people, two guys and one girl, or maybe they were just really flat chested girls, who could tell with the hair? Anyway, they moved like a pack, most definitely not human. I was able to get a few good swings in before someone side swiped me, I landed awkwardly on my side, my shoulder screamed. But I still had my stick. As one person decided to straddle my downed form I swung up, arching my back and smashing the person with all the strength I could muster, shoulder be damned. I'm pretty sure my hit was spot on, and there was a very loud crack followed by a crumbled form to my left. Unfortunately I was unable to do much more for the next thing I saw was a log, a legit log aiming for my head. I jerked to the side, fumbling over the very unconscious body, and slammed the back of my head on a peek-a-boo rock near the base of a tree. _Ow._

The log that was aimed for my head stopped maybe two inches from my nose, and dropped, thankfully not on any of my body parts. I fought back nausea and the dark spots, knowing that if I blacked out, I might never wake up again. But that was all I was able to do, the blow to the head took all my strength, and ability to muster any strength. Maybe the rock was supernatural, if you touched it, it would take away all your strength. Yeah, that sounded right, now if only I could tell them this, and then we get back to not knowing one another and I could get back to making my way in the world.

The girl who I initially hit, leaned over me, her jaw sporting a rather lovely blooming bruise, it looked vaguely like my mother's favorite color, lilac. A rough hand pushed me to my side; my arms were wrenched uncomfortably around while they took my backpack from me. My head lolled to the side, eyes half-mast, head pounding. I'm pretty sure I made a few pained noises and my head was bleeding, if the wet stuff leaking down my neck was anything to go by. My brain throbbed, ironically, your brain technically doesn't have any nerve endings, so it's telling itself to hurt…ironic, don't you think? A large, hairy arm came into my depleting line of sight, and then everything went fuzzy.

Someone lifted my limp form, bridal style and carried me for I don't know how long, it was guy, their voice rumbled and vibrated in their chest. I think I gagged a few times, and weakly attempted to escape his grasp. A cool hand was placed on my forehead, my eyes drifted upwards, head lolled so far back, I knew I would have a crick in it, if I lived, and that was it. Lights out, for who knows how long.

When I came to the first thing I thought was '_Ow' _ok, that wasn't the first thing, but I'm trying to keep it PG, the second was, I couldn't breathe. My hands felt around my nose, mouth, throat, nothing, there wasn't anything there, but I wasn't getting any air. I couldn't breathe, I – I – I don't want to die again, normal people only have to die once in their lives, twice if they are lucky, but I'm too young to die again. My hands scrabbled at my throat, clawing at it. Tears raced down my face, please, please, please someone help me. I don't want to die, not again. Not alone, in a silent world, please! Then, my body started to seize. Head slammed against the ground, the wound bled anew, my arms turned into spaghetti worms, wiggling this way and that while my torso tried to jerk itself away from its attachments. My right leg smashed against a sharp corner, the sting of an open wound was ignored as it continued its jig. While my left leg…I couldn't feel it. Oh God. Help Me. Someone, anyone. Please...

_Yep, I am evil, and that is all you are going to get for a little while. Hope you enjoyed and hope you are on the edge of your seats! Review and have an awesome day lovelies! _


	6. Bones, bones everywhere

_I am seriously spoiling you guys with all my updates, and I'm surprising myself by how fast I'm rolling these chapters out. Then again, I would rather write a story than study any day, I mean, who needs grades when you have werewolves and all that jazz? So once again, here we go! Hope you love it and I really hope you review!_

Something was touching me, covering my cold, broken body. It felt nice, like being hugged by my mom, when she was healthy and dad didn't take any and all work shifts, and when I didn't know about the supernatural side to life. Ignorance is truly bliss. But something was wrong, I couldn't open my eyes, the pleasant warmth turned into suffocating heat, and I couldn't move, I couldn't get away.

When my eyes finally opened, I was looking at corpses, white bone, worms moving around eye sockets, hair falling out in clumps. And I thought the hippies smelled bad, they had nothing on death. It was a sticky sweetness; that coats the back of your throat and tongue, like a putrid floral perfume but with rotting meat thrown in the mix. I wanted to scream, to wiggle and escape but I couldn't. Was I dead, again? Gingerly I moved my eyes to survey the room, trying to catalog what I saw instead of panicking and breathing in the foul odor. Dead, skeleton, rotting, almost skeleton, stone walls, a flickering torch…It looks like a tiki torch but I know it wasn't. And I knew where I was, but I thought places like this were just myths. The ancient burial grounds of native Indians, the few that existed were excavated and the bones were put on displays in museums all around the world. And those that remained were off limits to all those who were not originally native to the land.

But then again, if this place was off limits then there wouldn't be a burning torch and I highly doubt that there would be any meat left on the bones of these people…so, logically, that means that someone found this place and thought that it would be best to use this place as a body dumbing ground, hiding the new people with the old, in plain sight…granted we were more than likely underground or in a cave, which counts as being underground and not many people come looking for dead people in a room of dead people…oh my god I died.

That's when I started to really panic, I knew there was no use, but I couldn't move, I was who knows were in the middle of a pond of dead people, and yes I said pond instead of sea because it has been used in one too many movies. And, I couldn't MOVE. What if I was just a head, a Stiles head, left to rot with the other things, never to be found. So I did the next best thing to having a panic attack, I closed my eyes and counted to three and opened them, nada, I did it three times hoping that the third time would be the charm, I mean I lived with fairytale creatures and I'm a living corpse so there has to be some rhyme or reason to the world of Grimm. Right? Ten more times didn't help, I was still there, in the darkness, or, flickering darkness, lost and scared out of my mind. What good are Fairy God Parents and God Mothers and all that junk when werewolves exist and they don't? I mean come on! I could really use a magical guardian or something to pop up now. Hello, anyone out there?

A brighter light flashed over my face causing me to wince, my eyes rolled in their sockets to escape the blinding but to still seek the source of it. It was jungle pit girl, awesome. The world just had it out for me didn't it? She dodged the nastier bits of the bodies and before I knew it she was upon me, not that I was looking, I had my eyes closed and acted as dead as possible. Her cold hand against my forehead almost made me open them, almost. Hot wax to the chest did the trick.

It was as if chains were released from my body because the next thing I know I'm sitting up straighter than a stick in the mud and she is sprawled out over a few of the less decomposed bodies. Ew. My hands pat my chest, eyes noted the puckered skin of the Y scar, legs were still attached, even my left one, oh thank the lord. Once all my body parts were where they should be I turned my attention to the woman who was dusting rotting flesh off her…pantaloons?

'I'm glad to see you breathing,' she stated, before putting her hands onto her lips and raising an eyebrow at me.

'Who are you,' I asked, unsure if I had to, would I be able to get up and retreat quickly.

'The better question is, what are you?' she countered. 'I saw that scar, I know that you were dead, doing a little digging revealed that you've been dead for a little over a year. What are you?'

I've been dead a year, my dad has been mourning me, the pack…well I doubt they would be celebrating because they would have to be doing all the research now but still…a whole year. I thought it was a few months, tops.

'You smell like an omega, you have the personality of an alpha and you have a spark of a coven, yet you have died. You do not make any sense in the natural world of humans.'

'Neither do you,' I countered.

She stared at me for a moment, then nodded her head and let out what I guess would be a long sigh. 'Fair enough,'

'What are you? Why did your friend latch onto me, then you all attack me? Where am I? What the hell is this place?' my hands fluttered through the questions so quickly I could tell she had trouble keeping up, but she didn't ask me to repeat anything.

'We do a trade,' she countered, 'question for question'

'Only if the question is fair and only if it doesn't put anyone in danger' I responded, hey, I was loyal to death and apparently after death as well.

She nodded her head in agreement before responding. 'My name is Natasha, as to why my friend as you called him latched on to you, you were something new, he is but a child and thought that you could make a new addition to the family.'

'Fair enough,' I responded, my mind whirling with more questions but I stomped them down, waiting for her to ask.

'Why are you alive,' she asked.

Wow, she really doesn't beat around the bush, I'm guessing that if she talked she would have a Russian or Romanian accent, something cool and hard core. 'I don't know, I just am.' I responded, knowing that that wasn't the answer she wanted but it was all that I have.

A nod of understanding, and I was off. 'What are you? You move and fight like nothing I've ever seen before.'

She faltered at this, pursing her lips carefully before replying. 'As you are accustomed to the supernatural world this should not surprise you but we are nymphs'

'Like tree and water nymphs and all that jazz without the fairy dust?'

'Yes,'

I must have given her a look because she countered with a raised eyebrow.

'Why are you traveling alone?'

'I died, then I was alive, where I come from that's not normal…And with a few family issues I decided that it would be best if I left.'

'Best for whom?'

I just shrugged, then I decided to get to the base of this situation. 'Why did you attack? And why am I here?'

She looked sheepish at this, and it took her two minutes before responding, if only I could start the jeopardy theme song.

'You are not of this nature, one of our young brought you to us and I feared that you did something to him, and he was under your control. After the fight and you were….unawares, he all but cried and told us that he was the one who found you, not the other way around.' She took a deep breath before continuing, though I don't know why, she wasn't talking she was signing, old habits I guess. 'I felt for you, when you were…unaware, but your mind fought back. You seized, and your heart stopped beating. We thought to give you a respectable human death, to lay you with your ancestors, I was coming back to give the final blessing, when you woke and swung, catching me unaware.'

'So you aren't hippies, or vampires willing to bleed me until I am nothing more than a mummified corpse?' I couldn't help but ask.

Her facial expression told me of her disgust at that thought, and her answer was the same.

'Do you wish to depart from this place of rest?' she inquired, before turning her head and inspected her backside once more for any…mush.

'Yes,' that was possibly the easiest thing I've ever had to agree to. Then the slightly nosier side of me popped in and I asked, 'how do you know sign language? You are of nature, and sign language is of human origins.'

She seemed amused at that question. 'Humans, no matter how inbred, are products of nature. Whatever they learn, be it technology or a language, we are able to understand it.'

'oh' Well didn't I feel stupid.

She smiled at me, before holding out a hand, gingerly I accepted her help and slowly on my way out of…where ever it is that I was at.

'Why are there newer corpses?' I asked, after patting her on the shoulder to make sure I had her attention.

'It is a place of rest, only those who are worthy of rest within both realms are allowed here. If their bodies are not put to rest on such sacred ground then they would be forced to wonder, much like your case.'

I didn't ask her anything after that, because if some hoodo-voodo ancient Nymph magic resting place couldn't keep me dead then what could? I blame global warming.

A few near face plants and a scraped elbow later, I did not want to think about how many germs and other things were thriving in the muck, oh nasty, I limped along. Until we came to a dead end, literally. There was a giant wall of skeletons, like what you would see in an old Indiana Jones movie, or a horror film, I gave my guide a sideways glance, really hoping that she hadn't gotten us lost. But then I realized that she was actually talking aloud, and I was sourly tempted to add,

'Hello, deaf person here, speak with your hands,' but I was a good kid and refrained from doing so, barely.

Attention back to the massive mound of skulls and bones, only to see that there was a rather rotten corpse emerging from the bones. There just needed to be creepy music and then this place would be set for a scary movie. Instead I just wearily watched as the woman, Natasha, talk to the bone guy. He was dressed in, what was more than likely, authentic Indian garb, but over the tunic, there was a confederate coat covering…holes. But when he walked the clothes moved and I was able to see the white of ribs and the rotting organs inside, which were slowly, oozing out from what I guess would be bayonet cuts.

His jaw was pretty much a naked mandible, more than likely his teeth clicked together, and I was slightly amazed, if not a little grossed out, for there were only a few tendons allowing him to move his jaw. It reminded me of Two-Face: Harvey Dent, but in a more extreme sense. The smell coming from him was nearly suffocating, and I resisted the urge to hold my nose. Without lips, I was unable to read his side of the conversation. I don't even want to know how he was able to talk. Eventually, time moved slower than a chocolate snail melting in the heat of Alaska, they were done and Natasha motioned me forward. My nose hated me.

"_You are from the divided world." _Came a voice booming into my head.

I am pretty sure I lost ten manly points for I squeaked from surprise, but I attempted to gain my composure before I did something even less manly.

'How are you…' I signed in a flourish, really wishing this would be happening with someone less creepy, or not at all.

"_You have died, twice, thus you are able to hear my words without the trivial actions of speech." _

'Do you know why I am still alive?'

'_You need not gesture, simply think the thoughts towards me, like you once did in speech and I will receive. And, as to why you are alive, it seems as if death is simply a defense mechanism for you.' _

'_Like I'm a possum? But I actually die and they just pee on themselves to give the smell of death.' _

He smiled then, at least I think it was a he, silent speaking and weird clothes really make it difficult to distinguish what gender a person is. Or was he frowning, it was so hard to tell when they didn't have cheeks, or facial…anything.

'_You have a very crude grasp on the world but essentially yes, you are like a possum." _

There wasn't much to be said or thought after that, he motioned for us to follow him and unfortunately he moved back through the skulls, Natasha followed easily. I had to give myself a little pep talk; I mean who wouldn't have to? You're about to walk through a pile of dead people…at least I hope they are all dead…because if not then that would just be awkward. A deep breath, then I coughed until tears ran down my face, note to self, don't take deep breaths while being surrounded by death, might just kill you. So, I walked through it, granted I closed my eyes, plugged my nose, and cringed, praying that there wouldn't be a grabby hand somewhere in the mix of bones. Why couldn't they just be hippies on a retreat?

_That is where I now leave you, I may or may not be able to post anything else this week, if I don't please don't be too grumpy, I have a few tests I really need to study for but this story was in my head so I had to write it before it escaped. Hope you like it! Keep all the love and the reviews coming! Until next time, stay awesome! _


	7. He's whose grandson?

**This is with Derek and the Pack, sorry for the bad transition between the two perspectives. Enjoy! **

The pack was gathered together, but instead of the usual boisterous ways, of them rough housing and having one another lounge comfortably on top of one another, they all sat at attention. Backs straight, chins at a forty-five degree angle, eyes downcast; the perfect submissive pose to their alpha. Derek, who was currently staring down their local walking encyclopedia for the supernatural, Deaton, and Derek was losing. Deaton refused to give them any information, he refused to help them in any way, and Derek was demanding answers. It was bad enough that they lost one of their own, granted they hadn't considered him one of their own for a while, the loss was still painful, and with Deaton's refusal to give them information as to why their old pack-mate was gone, literally his body disappeared, then he would learn the true meaning of a pissed off wolf.

"I will not give you the answers you seek," Deaton replied calmly, his posture relaxed.

"You know what happened, you always know what happens around here, you have to tell us." Derek demanded, tightening his fists, trying to hold some composure.

"You did this to yourself, you were the reason this happened, and only you can fix this, if it is to be fixed." Deaton replied mystically, his eyes traveling between the pack members.

Derek clenched his jaw, squeezed his hands together until his nails bit into his palms and started to draw blood. "Please," he asked, hating how he was resorted to asking such a thing.

Deaton looked at the alpha, the poor lost boy who was forced to grow up too fast, the alpha who damned his pack and essentially allowed possibly one of the most powerful pack additions to kill himself due to their neglect. "No."

_Flashback:: two days before Stiles's death _

Scott moped around the clinic, petting on the animals and cleaning cages on autopilot. Eventually he shook himself out of his funk and confronted his boss. "You said that there can be human members in a pack, right?" He asked while twisting his hands in his hoodie pocket.

Deaton, who was double checking the stitches on their newest member, nodded his head absently. "That is correct."

"Can humans experience the pack bond, like, wolf members?" Scott asked, ducking his head away from the sudden narrowing of eyes directed in his direction.

Deaton stiffened then straightened up, "What did you do?" He questioned, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into the bin beside the examination table, eyes searching the wide eyed wolf in question.

"Well, it wasn't my idea," Scott began in protest, "Derek thought it would be best for Stiles to stay out of the pack, he kept getting hurt and he couldn't heal like the rest of us. And unlike Alison he kept going directly into the heat of whatever we were in."

"What did you do, Scott," Deaton's voice brought chills.

"Well…" Scott's eyes roamed around the little room, never staying on one thing for every long.

"Let me get this straight, you allowed your alpha to kick out possibly one of the most resourceful humans you could come by. Allowing the loyal friend who stood by your side while you nearly killed him month after month due to your little issue; all because he got a little scratch in the field?" Deaton questioned, his usually calm voice trembled with emotion, and sarcasm dripped venomously from his words.

Scott didn't directly answer; he just ducked his head and nodded.

Deaton swore in every tongue he knew, which is an impressive amount. He grabbed his jacket from the hook and struggled to put it on, while Scott watched him with confused eyes.

"Get her comfortable and lock up, then go to Derek's," Deaton commanded before spinning on his heel and leaving in a huff.

_At Derek's_

Deaton exited his car and resisted the urge to slam the door; he closed it with a soft tap and rapped on the hood with his knuckles. He was tired, oh so tired, and far too old to be doing this, if only he had followed his own promise and stopped aiding those who were too dumb to take a subtle hint. But instead he took in a wayward human, who then was bitten by a deranged alpha, who in turn brought it to his attention that the hyperactive son of the sheriff was in fact the person he had been looking for, then to find that Stiles was still dormant. A good thing, until the supernatural world decided to make Beacon Hills their new hub. And now, this, Stiles catatonic in bed, injured beyond human repair and the pack that was supposed to be supporting him was the catalyst for all of this.

Deaton was barely able to resist the urge to stomp his way into the new Hale meeting ground, and so what if his footsteps ended up falling slightly heavier than normal. He barged into the apartment, startling Isaac from a doze, and causing Boyd to tense from surprise, Peter merely looked from his book for a moment, rolling his eyes in the over theatrics of the pack. Derek was not there.

"Where is your alpha?" Deaton demanded, his anger darkening his voice and causing the wolves to shift.

That caught Peter's attention, for it took a large amount of something to obtain an emotional reaction from Deaton, he was harder to anger than Spock, and by far more stubborn than any Vulcan. "What has my nephew done to anger you?" Peter questioned, lowering his book, while noting the page number.

Deaton looked at Peter, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Call you alpha, and the pack, you have a lot of explaining to do, and I have very little patience."

Isaac finished the text and sent it to Derek while Boyd warily watched Deaton, this was atypical of the man, and it Deaton wasn't in his right frame of mind he could be a threat to the pack.

Ten minutes later and Derek finally appeared, rather noisily. His Camaro roared up and the heavy fall of his footsteps was able to sooth the agitated pack within, but it only angered Deaton more. He was acting nonchalant about the whole thing, as if having a pack-mate in the hospital was nothing but a usual occurrence. And for Derek, in retrospect, it wasn't an unusual occurrence, but this was Stiles.

When Derek entered his nose was practically assaulted by the smells attacking him. Panic from Isaac, who was huddled beside Boyd, trying to fight the irrational fear that his father bad so lovingly beat into him, Scott stood on Isaac's other side, his smell of sharp confusion brought an itch to Derek's nose. Peter stood in the corner, carefully assessing the situation, but it was clear to see that he was uneasy. And then the hot tang of anger, coming from Deaton.

"What is going on here?" Derek asked, crossing his arms and looking like the alpha he wasn't meant to be.

The pack turned to Deaton.

"You broke him," Deaton began.

"Who," Derek countered, his inner wolf raised his hackles at the thought of him doing something wrong and injuring his pack.

"Stiles," Deaton replied calmly, but his smell told them that he was anything but calm.

"How did we break him," Peter inquired from his corner. Raising his eyebrows while he looked at Deaton; uncertain if he really wanted to know the answer.

"He had a pack bond with you," Deaton stated, staring Derek down.

It was as if the pack had been slashed by the kanima, then dumped into a vat of icy water, they looked at one another in horror. The pack bond meant everything to them, it was the reason that they were able to be true to themselves around each other and never worry about being shunned.

"But he's human," Derek countered, looking at Deaton with a slightly lost expression.

"No, he is not," Deaton countered, crossing his arms and fighting back the urge to slam the insufferable alpha into the ground.

"If Stiles isn't' human than what is he?" Scott piped up, looked at the two opposing men with big eyes.

"Stiles is the direct descendant from the first race of natural magic, from before the Rule of the Once and Future King." Deaton said, his eyes glanced at Peter.

Peter had turned deathly pale, his eyes grew wide and his mouth parted slightly. "Are you saying, that the hyperactive little shit -," The rest of the pack growled at him when he insulted Stiles but he plowed onward, "is directly descended from Emrys?"

"Great grandson times twelve," Deaton replied.

"Well shit."

_So, those who understand who Emrys is I hope I have you squirming, and those you don't I suggest either waiting for my next chapter or watching BBC Merlin :) Hope you all enjoyed and sorry it took me a while to write, I was swamped with homework and tests just seem to keep on coming. As usual please review! Hope you liked it and hopefully a new chapter will come a little quicker. Adieu _


	8. Black Worm in the Snow

**_Hey! Its shorter than I wanted it, but then again I am going to add two chapters so I hope you forgive me for the lateness and shortness. Enjoy! _**

When I emerged from the…catacombs, for lack of a better word, my backpack and Ralph sat by a nearby oak, and an athletic bag was nestled next to it. I looked around for Natasha, or the skull-guy, both were, thankfully, absent. Rummaging through the new bag I was happy to see energy bars, water flavoring packets, and new shoes. There was more there, I was currently focused on the really important things. The shoes were heaven to my feet, arch support never felt so amazing, and how I missed the taste of tea.

Once I packed everything carefully back into the bag, I slung my backpack on then heaved the athletic bag, expecting it to weigh as much as my old school bag did when I carried around unopened text books. I ended up slamming my shoulder into a tree due to my overcompensation; it felt as if there was nothing in it! Gotta love nymph magic, or whatever it is that they used.

_Week Three…._

Thankfully nothing like the last two weeks happened this week, I was able to go about my trek with little to no distractions. I watched the leaves fall from the trees, smelled wood smoke from nearby homes and was thankful for the little things, like, being able to walk down a small country road without being tackled by a weird nature nymph, and not seeing any skull men long dead. All the little things. Though, I have to admit, I wasn't expecting the snow.

I think it was around Halloween, if the pumpkins were anything to go by, when the snow hit, literally. I had hunkered down for the night, thankful for the thermal sleeping bag that was included in the athletic bag. With Ralph supporting my head, I was able to burrow deep down, having only a little hole for air, my athletic bag was at the very bottom of the sleeping bag and backpack was inside it, call me paranoid but I would rather not lose either item.

Waking up was harder than usual, my body was practically lethargic, it was nearly impossible to wiggle around and find the top part of my bag. And it proved to be an even harder feat to unzip the thing. Boy, did I ever regret unzipping that bag. Snow! A good foot of snow was on top of me! The beautiful-white-one-of-a-kind-till-they-froze-your -toes-off-flakes swept into the opening of my bag. I am certain I yelped loud enough and at such a high octave it would make a soprano opera singer jealous. Holy shit in a hand basket, that was COLD! I shoved as much snow out of my bag as possible, squirming around and trying to avoid any other body part from touching the vile whiteness. I can only imagine how I would have looked to a bystander, a big black thing wiggling around in a sea of white, they probably would have shot me and asked questions later – at least if this was as hick as I thought it would be.

Finally I was able to push the snow out, only leaving behind a damp chill in my bag. Shivering I was able to snatch the tiny flashlight keychain from my pack and use it to navigate. If I had to go out of my warm oasis, I was going out as a marshmallow. Two pairs of jeans, four shirts, two pairs of thick socks and my thickest jacket and a thin blanket, I was ready to leave my cocoon. I stuffed my backpack into my athletic bag then pushed it out first, making a small clearing. I made sure I had a pair of socks over my hands, don't judge, and I crawled out. I'm pretty sure that if the old Stiles was forced into a similar situation, he would have freaked out by the cold, and snow and cursed and made as much noise as possible. Then again, I know I cursed, I just don't know how it sounded to someone else, not that there was anyone out in this weather. Anyway, once again I digress, I think the cold just makes my ADHD worse.

I shook off as much nasty white from my sleeping bag as possible and bundled it up, before slipping it into my athletic bag, silently apologizing to Ralph, for the damp bag was pushed right next to him. My nose was already numb, and boy, I really hate snow!

Finally I was able to begin my trudging of the day, but it seemed to be getting colder. Snow was starting to fall in huge white clumps and my bad leg had gone numb long ago. Breathing became a chore, and I was sure that I was going to get sick if I continued, but there was no other option, I mean, I had no were to go, I didn't even know where I was much less having any money to find a place to hole up and wait for the snow to stop.

Maybe three hours later, I was exhausted, the effort it took to drag my bad leg was immeasurable, and the cold finally stopped being cold, which meant danger to me and my other extremities. Ha, that reminded me of the _League of Extraordinary Gentleman, _and how the invisible man was naked and told the rather pretty girl that all his outer extremities were frozen, and he meant all of them. I smiled at that thought, that was when the world was simple, when Scott and I would have movie marathons, and our parents' knew not to worry if they didn't hear a peep from us for a whole weekend. As long as the toilet would flush and food went missing, they knew that we were ok.

Ah, tears, can't cry it's too cold, can't cry, ow. I sniffed and fought the tears, knowing that they would freeze and they would hurt. I mean, really hurt. Oh lord, I am so cold…

I wonder if I die like Captain America, frozen in ice, if I had the ability to be reanimated, but then again, I died twice now and so I might just be a living, frozen person…and I really don't want to be frozen, imagine the boredom! But my body decided to rebel and I was forced to stop for the night, or maybe it was still day, I honestly didn't know due to the white. I found a nice pine tree to hole up under and I snuggled down deep into my sleeping bag. Maybe I could hibernate, that would be awesome. Yea…..hibernation…

_**Whelp, there is another chapter, and it turns out studying is something that is in fact Really Important...darn tests. Hope you liked it and hope you have patience and enjoy whats to come. I'm going to (hopefully) get to the meat of the story soon! **_


	9. Come and Gone

**_Derek and the pack_**

The pack was silent, they couldn't believe that the Stiles they knew, the bundle of pain in their rear and the boy who was willing to do almost everything to get in their way, even when he had a good reason, was as powerful as Deaton was implying. It was impossible to believe, how could he be? He was Stiles, he wasn't related to the most powerful Warlock of all time, and Arthur and Camelot couldn't be real, it was a fairy tale. At least that is what Scott was telling himself, while Boyd just looked at the two men while Isaac curled into his side.

"Magic has been extinct since the Royal inquisition and the Salem Witch Trials," Derek said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Magic can be dormant if it is a threat to its person, and Stiles has the most potent amount of dormant magic that I have ever been witness to." Deaton spoke calmly, his blood pressure had slowly lowered.

"But," Derek attempted to find a reason to go against Deaton but he had nothing.

Peter finally emerged from the corner and walked towards his idiot nephew turned alpha and the witch doctor. "If Stiles was such an important creature, and part of the pack, how is it that we didn't immediately feel the loss when he was out of the pack?"

Deaton sighed and ran a hand across his face, "from what I can gather, Stiles believed that you still thought of him as part of the pack, and he –" Deaton stopped talking, his body stiffened, eyes taking on a distant look.

Derek and the rest of the pack stiffed in anticipation worried that something bad was approaching their den and Deaton was listening to his inner voices, or whatever he did to learn of a new threat. Suddenly Deaton's body sagged, Derek was barely able to catch him before Deaton kissed the ground. The pack was on high alert.

The betas vacated the couch and Deaton was gently placed on it, the werewolves watched as the man came to.

"He's gone," Deaton whispered.

Boyd held Isaac closely to his chest, while Scott just stared at Deaton in disbelief, Derek closed his eyes. And all of a sudden the pack felt the loss. As keenly as if they had lost a limb, the betas fell, Peter clutched the wall's edge in an attempt to stay upright. Derek planted his feet against the swaying ground and tried to fight the sudden urge to howl, to run into the wilderness surrounding Beacon Hills and never return. Stiles was dead.

**_Its short! I know! I'm sorry, I hope the previous chapter gave you the ability to forgive me! I hope you liked and I am going to do my utmost best to write more and post more frequently. Hope you enjoyed and I hope you review, like, favorite and all that jazz. Until next time! Adieu! _**


	10. Flash to the Past

_freefall-gypsy and 0809, I hope I did this chapter justice for you two! Enjoy! _

_**Stiles**_

I don't know what woke me up first, maybe it was the fact that I was no longer in my sleeping bag, or maybe it was the fact that I wasn't cold. Either way, I figured that if I opened my eyes and found myself in a casket, then I shouldn't be all that surprised. I mean, I probably froze to death and someone found me. With that mental pick-me-up, I pried my eyes open and was happy to see that I wasn't in a dark casket, but I was in a nice room. It kind of reminded me of the room Bella had, not that I would ever willingly watch Twilight other than to see if there was any truth in the characters, supernatural wise. A rather large, calloused hand placed itself on my forehead, and I jerked upwards in fright. Or, at least I tried but in reality all I did was jerk slightly then more than likely I groaned in pain, oh lordy that hurt.

Another hand settled itself over my sternum and I began to feel warmth, it started to radiate from my chest and outward to all my limbs. It was relaxing, soothing….A small part of me was panicking, this wasn't right, something was going to happen, if it wasn't already happening. But my body and the rest of my mind refused to listen, and I was pulled down to sleep once more.

_**Derek and the pack**_

Stile's death had sent all the pack for a loop, Deaton seemed shaken and he left the pack den without another thought. No pack member was able to get near Deaton's building, it was drowning in mountain ash, and it had more supernatural barriers than the Chinese phonebook had Chins. Slowly they were able to get back to their old ways, they knew something had happened to their friend's body but Derek wasn't letting them research, and the whole town was in mourning, so even if they wanted to, they wouldn't have been able to get very far without angering the already disheartened community. But just as they were getting used to the world, a world without Stiles, but then something happened.

Scott, Boyd, and Isaac were in school and in the only class period they had separate when it happened. It felt as if someone had smashed them in the head with a bat made of Mountain ash, and that the ground gave way.

Scott dropped his pencil, his eyes went wide and he looked around his math class deliriously, he was able to focus on Stile's chair for a moment, then nothing. His eyes rolled around his head and he slumped in his seat, head rolled on a limp neck. This caused the first wave of panic.

Boyd was in gym class, he was forced to repeat Freshman gym due to the complications of last year. He was easily jogging the mile, enjoying the smells that gently came from the surrounding tree line and it allowed him and his wolf to be at peace. When it was as if an earthquake had come, he couldn't find solid footing. He slammed painfully onto the track and groaned, a few people slowed their jog and eyed him wearily, he was a rather imposing figure usually but now, he seemed kind of pitiful. Boyd's head began to pound, lights flashed in his eyes, and his body seized twice before he blacked out. The freshman started to scream.

Lastly, Isaac, Isaac was in a mandatory counseling session. He was sitting on an over plush armchair, listening with one ear as the woman, who reeked of dead flora, yammered on and on about closure and how talking about what has happened should aid in his healing. The first thing to go was his sight, the second his hearing; he clutched the edge of the chair, praying that he didn't have claws. Then he listed to the side, a blood slowly dripping from his left nostril. Unresponsive to the now near frantic woman, that was the final wave.

The three wolves were raced to the closest hospital, thankfully Ms. McCall was on duty, and she knew that it would be just a matter of time before a very distraught and angry alpha would crash through the hospital looking for his pack. The three boys were rushed into MRI machines and Cat-Scans, but no one was able to find the reason behind their collapse, this only seemed to unnerve the staff even more.

Deaton had been wiping down a table when he felt it, the sudden snuff of power, it was a string going lax, or a waterfall suddenly turned off and there wasn't even a drop to show that it once existed. Deaton knew what it meant, but it was nearly impossible for him to fathom. It meant that Stiles was in face alive, or he had been, but then he died. And his death had caused a ripple in the natural order. Deaton knew that the betas would be nearly catatonic, and their alpha in worse shape. He sighed heavily, and attempted to move forward, only to find that his legs were rather weak. Leaning against the table, Deaton shook his head, he had feared that Stiles's magic would simply stay dormant and he would be able to pass away in peace. But of course simplicity is not the way of life in Beacon Hills. No matter how he yearned for it. And even thought Deaton loathed it, he knew that he would have to go back to the dogs and tell them that Stiles was in fact alive, and is now dead, but it is a good indicator that he will be alive again, and that they needed to begin searching for him. Because the more deaths Stiles experienced, the less humanity would remain within him. And if he died enough times, the Stiles they knew would no longer exist, and only calculating magic would be left, and that was something that Deaton feared to see.

_**Stiles **_

When I came to again, I noticed a few things. One, I was still in the bed that was overly frilly but very comfortable, two, I still had no idea where I was other than that I was in a very feminine room, and three I knew that there was someone to my left. Very slowly I moved my head, and saw a rather beautiful woman sitting in an old rocking chair, even though she wasn't rocking, the chair gave off a sense of…something. It is impossible to explain. She was neither young nor old, a few stray grey hairs gave her a touch of wisdom, but her face had no creases.

'I see that you are awake young one,' She signed, without looking in my direction.

If at all possible my eyes grew larger than they had ever been. 'How did you know that I was deaf?' I asked, looking at her curiously.

'It was whispered through the leaves,' she replied simply, turning her head to look at me, her dark brown eyes danced with mischief.

I honestly didn't know how to respond to that, so I just looked at her for a moment. 'Where am I,' might as well go with the simple questions and work my way up.

'You are safe, young one. But it was a challenge, you deciding to sleep in the cold and wet, not a smart move.' She signed, a slight crease formed between her two perfect eyebrows as she surveyed me.

'How did you find me?'

'The whispers,' she signed with a fluidity that could only be from many years of using sign language.

Before I was able to say much more my eyes grew heavy, almost alarmingly so.

'Do not fret, my dear, you are simply settling into your magic, you will be tired for some time. But be at peace, you are safe with us.'

My hand rose to reply, but it grew too heavy, and the last thought I had was, _what magic, _before sleep overcame me.

I woke up a few more times, and there was very little change in my surroundings. The woman would either be in the rocking chair or standing by a window, she would patiently answer my questions and then I would pass out again. In retrospect it is kind of embarrassing, I mean, I kept falling asleep on her, I really hope that I didn't snore or fart or something just as embarrassing.  
When I was finally able to stay awake for more than a few minutes, the woman decided that it would be best to introduce herself.

'My name is Nara,' she signed from the rocker. A light blanket was thrown over her lower half, making her seem smaller.

'Stiles,' I signed back, flashing her a tentative smile.

'Stiles,' She signed back, to make sure she had it right.

My smile brightened, and she gave me a gentle smile back.

'How well do you know of your family history, Stiles?' she asked, turned the rocker slightly so she was looking at me head on.

I shrugged and looked at my hands, surprised to see that they were clean, even under the nails, and for a brief second a few weeks back I had believed that I would never again have white fingernails. And now, they were cleaner than Lydia's. Lydia, Scott….No, I would not go down that road, I could not.

'My mother died when I was little, my father is as American bland as they come.' I shrugged, not really looking up as I signed.

She waited patiently for me to look before she answered. 'Have you ever met either parents' parent?'

I thought for a moment then shook my head, I never really thought of it before but I couldn't remember meeting my grandparents. On either side. 'Why is that important?' I asked, cocking my head to the side in confusion, something the old Stiles would do but it was ingrained.

She smiled warmly, 'What do you know of Camelot and Merlin?'

'Other than what I learned through BBC America, not much,'

'Well,' she paused for a moment, her eyes had a thoughtful gleam, 'it would be best to start from Merlin's heritage then work down,' she gave herself a moment, positioning her hands over her breasts and looked directly into my eyes. 'This is the story of how you came to be, and of how many others have come to pass,'

'_Merlin was a very powerful creature, he was not a man, and he was not a beast, he simply was. Some believe that he was created to see the joining of Abylon, other's believe that he was the original source of magic, and all things purely supernatural. Either way, his magic did not die with him, and Merlin never had children, instead it traveled into a new born babe, who was born two hundred years later. It has been said that the babe was very ill, the mother had passed and the child only had moments before it followed it's mother to the afterlife. But instead, the magic entered the body, and created the next generation of Merlin's. The babe, a girl, grew to be strong and she fought for what she believed and died rather poetically. I think your history books call her Joan, Joan of Arc. _

_The belief that magic is purged from the body through the use of flames is actually far from the truth, flames can simply be manipulation of the eye, yes, Joan died when she was young and yes she died fighting for what she believed in, but she did not die from the flames. Her strength, her wisdom, her courage had been enhanced through her magic, through Merlin's magic, and the enemy had learned of its presence and wanted to harness it for their own. She perished in their attempt, and she never knew that she had magic. _

_The magic then traveled through many people, but it seemed to be focused on one thing and one thing in particular. The babe had to be close to death, or dead, and it was all alone.' _

'Wait' I waved my hands about, to as if to clear the air of the story she was spinning. 'this sounds all well and neat, but there is one fatal flaw.'

She raised her brow in question.

'I have two parents, and until recently, I never died. And I am far from alone, I have a dad and I had a wonderful mother,'

'Adoption_'_

'I look like my MOM,' I emphasized the last part with a wave of my hand.

'That is the beauty of magic.'

I gave her a disbelieving look, even if magic were real, and I am not going to even think for a mili-second that it was, I was a Stilinski through a through. I had similar mannerisms of my dad and I looked exactly like my mom, there was no way for me to be anything but blood….was there. Nara watched as conflicting emotions passed through my face.

'You were probably a stone babe,'

'What,' I asked, glaring at her.

'A stone babe, a child born from wedlock and cast out, usually abandoned in an old cemetery or an overgrown garden. Old superstitions said that the spirits of the souls that long since wandered the earth would hear the child's cry. Being unable to heal the babe, and unable to care for it, the spirits would do the only thing they could do; they would turn it to stone. To release the anguishing spirit and immortalize the body of a damned babe, your father more than likely found you before you were turned. But it is clear to any with sight, you are not of this natural realm, at least, not anymore.'

'What,' That seemed to be my favorite word of late.

'With each death, you become more like your original self, you lose a small part of your…humanity if you will.' With that said she calmly handed me an antique hand mirror.

I honestly didn't know the person looking back at me. Gone were my brown eyes and buzz cut hair, gone was the brown hair. My hair reached to my chin, strains straining to pass it. My eyes were nearing a violet hue, and my whole facial structure was slowly changing, and my hair….I honestly never thought it could be so red, that any hair could be so red without the aid of chemicals.

'I don't look like me,'

'Nay child, this is the first time you are looking like yourself.' Nara countered.

**_So? What did you guys think? Reviews keep me motivated, just saying :) Hope you enjoyed and if you had any thoughts or suggestions feel free to shoot me a message! Stay warm and enjoy your fall! Until next time - Adieu! _**


	11. Natural Magic

**_Sorry its short, I have one good hand right now...kinda fractured my right wrist...enjoy! and reviews make me happy!_**

_Week 7_

I learned a lot from Nara, I learned that she was not a Native American, even though her physical features would tell a different story, but rather she was literally a part of nature. She was a human, who had been lost in the forest as a child and the Nymphs had taken her in, and raised her. Toughed her skin with the bark of an oak, but it had softened with the kiss of the sun. Her hair had been woven with briars but they fell away when the wind caressed her. She was the human extension of Nature itself and she had been waiting for me for a very long time.

I learned that my magic was obtained from the earth and the living things around me. I learned that through my deaths I lost much of what had made me human, and I was reverting back into my 'true form' granted I wasn't too sure what that would look like. But what I was amazed at was the fact that my scars from the flames were slowly healing. My left leg no longer looked as if it had gone through a meat grinder, and it was becoming stronger. But my hearing was still gone, and in all honestly I didn't care, for there are so many other things out there in the world than just things that are related to sound. Nara taught me this, and she taught me how to control my magic. And I learned how to merge into the world around me, to be hidden from even the sharpest of eyes, and the keenest of noses, and I learned that I was no longer a poor human. I was much more, but first I had to learn how to control my magic and that resulted in a lot of practice, bruises, contusions and curses.

'Your magic is from nature, and thus does not need to be commanded, simply ask and it shall do as you wish, within reason.' She warned.

'Thanks,' I grouched, I learned that the Western Winds hated to be bothered on Thursdays and it did not like mornings, I learned this after being slammed across a meadow, multiple times, when I called upon it and asked it to lift me.

Nara just smiled at me, before turning her attention back to whatever it was that she was doing. She never seemed to keep her hands still, or empty. Unless she had to talk to me.

Currently I was in a stream, the rounded pebbles rubbed against my bare feet and my toes grew numb from the cold. Did I mention that there was snow on the ground? And I was in a stream, freezing my little piggies off. But Nara said I needed to learn how to heat the water around me, without disturbing the water. So, I imagined a pot of water slowly rising in temperature, from a nice lukewarm to a toasty sixty degrees. A pebble kissed my temple and my concentration was broken. I spun around and glared at Nara, she just looked at me then pointed to my feet. I cautiously looked down, and there was a rather nice bubbling of water around me, then it hit me. HOT! Hot water, ow…

Sheepishly I looked at Nara and scowled, she was laughing. If her head thrown back and teeth glinting in the soft light was anything to go by, also her shoulders were shaking so hard it was as if she was her own earthquake.

'Come out, you need to warm up before you either poach yourself, or boil the water out of the stream.' She signed, her hands still shaking from her mirth.

I pouted at her and I happily left the cold water, and quickly pulled on thick socks. Then I turned and glared at Nara, pursing my lips and I was sorely tempted to stick my tongue out at her. But I knew that would only hurt my cause to show her that I was more mature than she had begun to believe. If only by a slight margin. Before I was able to say anything, she held up her hand and cocked her head to the side. Eyes searching the trees. The whispers must be louder than usual.

'Someone has entered our land,' She signed, standing quickly and ignoring the fabric that fell to the white ground.

'Supernatural? Or lost hiker?'

'Alphas'

'More than one?'

'A pack'

I honestly didn't know what to say to that, to have a pack of Alphas travel through one's land is unsettling to say the least. I watched Nara as she listened to the whispers, her body seemed to sag with age, I was tempted to ask her what was being said, but I resisted the urge. For she would tell me what was necessary and nothing more and nothing less.

Eventually she turned towards me and I have never seen her look so old, nor would I ever wish to see someone age so quickly before me, ever again. With slumped shoulders and worry lines between her eyes and creases marring her face, she just looked at me for a moment.

'You need to run' She signed, looking at me as if I was a new wonderment.

'What,' I asked, my eyes widened to a comical size.

'You must now return to your pack, or else this new pack will destroy them, and then they will come for you.'

'Why, Nara, please tell me what's going on.' I begged her.

'A pack of Alphas is something that is not with the natural order of life, and they know that they are not of the natural cycle. So, they try to obtain something that is of natural life. They have already consumed two nymphs and a sprite, and now their pack dynamic is strong but unstable. Now their new leader is Deucalion, is always in search of new power. And he is uncaring if he murders his own to gain more power. '

'Why do I have to run'

'You are the most powerful supernatural being that there has been, and you are of purer magic, Deucalion will attempt to incorporate your power into the dynamic by….mating.'

'mating?!' I would have screamed that if I could, and I'm sure I made some interesting noises.

'Yes it is the only logical way to incorporate someone into a pack, and if anything were to happen to him, you would be passed down the chain of command.'

'I'd be a whore'

'Essentially'

I flapped my hands around uselessly, 'why do I need to go back to Beacon Hills?'

'Your old alpha and his associates should be able to help prolong your freedom, and there is a chance that they will be able to overpower the alphas'

'Don't I have a say'

'Aye, you do, but it is you either let yourself become a consort of one of the most violent people in the supernatural world, or you fight back. There are no other options.'

'I can run' I signed with determination, then looked at Nara with a heavy heart. 'I won't see you again will I?'

'It is not for me to decide, nor you, it is simply the way, and Earth may decide that you need me in the future or She may not.'

I looked at Nara, and smiled wetly, these past few weeks she had turned into a mother figure for me, and it was a bitter sweet ending. 'I hope we do,' I signed before hugging her close.

No longer did I have an athletic bag, instead it was an army issue backpack, lightened with the aid of Northern wisps. Ralph was snuggled deeply into the pack, and he held some essential things within his pudgy arms. Twelve containers of wolvesbane, an assorted mix of herbs and a large handful of talismans that were woven into his fabric; I had refused to let Nara come near me with an old fashioned tattooing needle. And when I was ready to leave, I gave one final glance towards Nara and the place I had called home for three weeks and without further thought, I turned my back to it and walked forwards.

High in the trees I crouched, my eyes pierced the twilight gloom, I searched for any sign of supernatural life. Supernatural beings gave off an aura much different from the average woodland creature, it also depended on what they were as to what their aura looked like. Wood Nymphs were silver entwined with green, while gnomes, and yes they do exist and yes they have terrible tempers, were silver mingled with a rusted brown. Wolves were ice blue, their auras clean and sharp, cold as the moon but clear as a night sky.

I didn't need my hearing to know that there was something amiss within the woods. The animals trembled in their homes, deer stood tall and wary, their eyes wide, searching for predators. And the smell of the forest was off, it was of natural elements mingled with the smell of hot iron, something easily associated with power. The Alphas were in the woods.

**_What ya think? I'll try to update at least once every two weeks, it'll just depend how fast I can go with one hand. until then - Adieu!_**


	12. Run

**Derek and the Pack**

After the initial panic, and once the pack was settled in Derek's home, the weary wolves watched their unsteady alpha pace before them. It was clear that Derek was tired, and that the…whatever it was had hurt him just as much, if not more than it had them. But he refused to back down, to take it sitting.

"Derek," Peter spoke, he was watching his nephew pace like a caged animal, and the simile was very close to the truth. "Derek," Peter spoke louder, hoping to break him from his silent thoughts.

Derek snarled and turned to look at his uncle, his eyes bleeding red. "What?" he snarled.

"You know what happened, you need to tell them." Peter spoke calmly, raising his arms to show the alpha that he meant no harm.

"We can't know it for sure."

"Derek"

"NO" He roared.

His roar scared the resting betas and made Isaac violently, Derek felt a twinge of guilt but refused to back down. Peter looked at his nephew, the grief was nearly toxic, coming off him in potent waves, drowning out any other smell, or emotion that he might have been feeling.

Before they were able to get into it, the lift dinged a warning, and Deaton walked in. He was pale, his hands were shaking but he seemed determined.

"YOU IDIOT" Deaton roared, his voice was hoarse and it was clear that he was scared, terrified even. "Because of your inability to see what is right under your alpha nose, you let something precious slip away, something that has the potential to being the destruction of everything we hold dear." Deaton bit his lip, ruby blood welled from the wound.

Derek stared at the usually placid man with a raised eyebrow, he wasn't sure how to react to that. Peter was the one who responded for his nephew.

"How can there be destruction? Stiles is dead."

Isaac crumpled against Boyd, his heartbeat told them that he had passed out, while Scott stood with a weak snarl.

"What do you mean, dead?" Scott clenched his hands, and released, his stance was staggered.

"The agony you felt, that was the repercussions of losing a powerful pack member," Deaton explained, having gained some control over his emotions once more. "But," he turned back to the alpha and Peter, "Stiles died, the loss was felt painfully to all who have ever had contact with him. Yet he still lives."

The silence and surprise was palpable.

"Stiles is the strongest resurrection of magic that has ever been recorded, the last person who had the power, was Merlin himself. So, the magic did as it has done for many years, it brought him back to life."

"What do you mean, 'as it has done'?" Scott asked, sitting back down, wearily. A hand absently started to rub Isaac's shoulder, Isaac was still unconscious.

"Stiles, more than likely was dead, or dying when the Magic found him, and it brought him back. He more deaths he experience the more likely he is to be the Natural state of Magic, and eventually, the Stiles we hold dear will no longer exist. The pain you felt was the loss of Stiles as a pack mate."

"So Stiles is still alive?" Isaac's shaky voice seemed to echo through the room.

"Yes,"

"Why do I feel a 'but'?" Peter questioned.

"You have another problem."

"What is it?" Derek was barely able to keep the growl from his voice.

"There is an Alpha pack headed this way."

**Stiles**

The Alpha pack moved with a fluidity that even the most practiced dancers wouldn't be able to accomplish. I all but drenched myself in a type of wolf repellant that Nara and I concocted, and I prayed that I would not be found. But of course, praying seems to be a worthless exercise for me. Their leader paused at the base of my tree, I carefully shuffled deeper into the foliage and all but held my breath. His head snapped straight to my location, his unseeing eyes locked onto mine. A feral smile crossed his face and he motioned to the other members to fetch.

Or, at least I'm pretty sure he said something like that, because they were climbing my tree that would put Edward Cullen to shame. I spun around and started to race through the braches, swinging like Tarzan and keeping my balance like a squirrel. I could feel them slowly getting closer, I was quickly becoming desperate. I didn't want to be caught, I didn't want to lose my virginity to some over bearing, power hungry ass hat. But the trees only went for so far, and I found myself literally between a rock and a hard place, a tree in this case. I gave in and turned to search for the pack, only to see them maybe fifty feet out and if their grins were anything to go by, they thought they had me cornered.

I glanced at my bum leg, and the cliff, and I started to climb. Fingers and toes digging into the smallest of cervices, I climbed as quickly as I could. Sweat made my back itch, or maybe it was all the eyes watching me. I looked upwards to gauge how much more, only to see the smirking face or a crouching Alpha, waiting for me. Breath hitching, I looked down and saw the wolves standing at the bottom, smirking. Damn, I had been herded into a corner. I glanced at them, and hugged the wall, one of them was talking, but I didn't even attempt do decipher what they were saying, probably some bull of how they didn't want to hurt me.

I tensed my muscles, and focused where I wanted to go, like how JK Rowling explained to muggles how the magic folk apperated, and I sincerely hoped she knew what she talking about. With that, I launched from the wall, eyes clenched shut, body arching, the sickening feeling of a free fall, I didn't feel anything other than the free fall. Opening my eyes I saw that I had apparently been running along the edge of a rather large, and impressive valley. I was going to die. I wonder if I would wake up, because this was going to be a rather nasty death.

Oh G-

**_Its short but its something, I'm finally getting to the meat of the story. I hope you guys are still liking it, feel free to critique, ask for something or give me another idea. Love ya guys! stay warm. Until then - Adieu! _**


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